Almost Fallen
by kitty maire
Summary: Some thoughts and missing moments from Point of No Return and Two Minutes to Midnight...so, yes, there are spoilers. Mainly Castiel for the moment, but the brothers will be sharing their thoughts in the following chapters...
1. Chapter 1

Hello,

I have to start by saying I do not believe that Castiel is human...not yet anyway. This is intended to be about four chapters...just some thoughts on what happened to our angel while he was missing...thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

Oh, and by the way, there are many others much more qualified to claim the Supernatural world as theirs...all I have are my thoughts...and a cool scale model of the Impala...

* * *

Castiel could not make eye contact with the younger Winchester as he assisted in the mutilation of Jimmy's chest. Sam's eyes were troubled but his hands were steady, which was what the angel needed. Apparently, carving wards meant to dispatch heavenly creatures to places most beings could not survive into the flesh of a vessel was...ill advised. The pain of the carving was barely tolerable, but Castiel endured it because he truly believed this was his last moments of existence and hoped that Sam's faith in his brother was enough to make his sacrifice worth while.

As he entered the warehouse alone, Castiel focused all his energy -all his grace- on the suicide mission at hand, and could feel his fellow angel's presence mere moments before the actual attack. He dispatched his brother quickly, feeling sadness at how easy it had become to take another angel's life.

It seemed the remaining angel guard hoped for safety in numbers, and appeared together, surrounding Castiel. He wondered what had brought him to this moment -when had things become so...wrong. How did it come to pass that the human chosen to be the weapon of heaven's wrath could make an angel lose his faith, first in the law of heaven, then in himself, and the boy with the demon blood could have enough faith for all three of them.

His fellow angels seemed to be wary of their rebellious brother -Castiel had been a formidable warrior in the garrison before his desertion- until he threw down his weapon. They of course assumed that by not holding the sword that he was unarmed. Ripping open his vessel's shirt and placing his bloody hand against the banishment sigil proved that he was in fact one of the more skilled of their ranks. While the white hot agony of banishment consumed them all, Castiel's final thoughts were on the Winchester brothers...and how perhaps this sacrifice would satisfy the demands of fate for the brothers today.

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Thank you for reading...feedback is always welcome...and it helps guide the creative thoughts to their outlet...

~km 2010


	2. Chapter 2

So here is the next chapter...please read and enjoy...

...As always, not mine...

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He is trapped, unable to free himself from the confines of his prison. Unlike any time before, all Castiel wants is to be free of Jimmy Novak's body, to be anywhere but where he is right now. But even if he could abandon this vessel, he would not. Jimmy is in agony, and as his grace is failing him, so is Castiel. He focuses every last ounce of his grace into suppressing Jimmy's awareness - then in a truly new and terrifying turn of events, Castiel loses consciousness.

Startled shouts...alarms, horns...the smell of salt and sea...a gentle breeze on damaged flesh causing agonized screams - his voice (Jimmy's voice?) he realizes...try to overcome the pain but can only focus on it...

A question being asked..."Buddy, where in the hell did you come from?"

Gruff, scratchy voice-"...yes, somewhere in hell..."

One of the sailors sees the bloody chest of the man that appeared on the deck of their boat -sees the symbols carved into flesh- and recognizes them as symbols from the almost forgotten magic of angels...and he starts to pray.

Castiel hears the words meant to comfort...he wants to tell the man not to bother, that no one is listening, but the ability to speak is overridden by agonizing pain.

Blue eyes roll back as the angel has a seizure.

* * *

Words are being spoken..quiet whispers that they assume he can not hear...they are correct.

"His wife asked if he was okay, but she won't come..."

"What did he do...join a cult or something?"

"Did you see the marks on his chest? Maybe he was a sacrifice...?"

"Do people really do that? I mean...really?"

"The world is going to hell in a hand basket...haven't you seen the news? Yeah, they still do that..."

* * *

Choking...can not breath...there is something invading the space where air normally travels...alarms, loud -too loud- hurts already sensitive ears...everything is pain -burning, searing agony in his chest...too much pressure in his skull-

Calming voice -he tries to focus on it- the voice is giving commands...he can follow commands- he is a solider after all-

"Calm down Mr. Novak" (What? Who?) "James, listen to me-"

Blue eyes snap open, suddenly aware, and the doctor makes an audible noise at her shock -this man is supposed to be brain dead- but she quickly recovers.

"Mr. Novak...James..." She tries again. "Listen to me...blink if you can hear me."

Those eyes focus all their attention on the doctor's face, then slowly and deliberately blink.

"Okay, that's great..." She looks around at the staff that has flooded into the room. She issues instructions for a mild sedative to be administered through the patient's IV. His heart rate is too high; it would do no good to have him come out of his coma to have a massive heart attack.

He slowly closes his eyes, panic giving way to sleep as the medication takes him. He allows this to happen, mostly because he can not help his vessel anymore...and in reality he doesn't have the energy to fight it even if he wanted to.

* * *

He wakes again much later, the world still clouded to him. There is a woman in the room, checking the wound on his chest and taking his vitals. Castiel follows her movements with his eyes, not sure what they mean. She catches his expression and smiles at her patient.

"Mr. Novak, you sure do keep us guessing around here." She comments, glancing at his chart. She notices that he is due for another dose of pain medication.

He blinks slowly, wondering idly why everyone knows his vessels name. He thinks to correct this woman about his true name...then remembers a conversation with Dean about not telling the police that he is an angel of the lord. Although this woman does not seem to be the authority he was advised to lie to, something tells him that hospital personal probably fit in the same category of people who 'can't handle the truth' as the older Winchester would say. The decision is taken from him by the warm relief that suddenly floods his (Jimmy's) veins.

The nurse wasn't expecting a response from the patient; his eyes were already drifting close as she injected the pain medication into his IV port. She pats his shoulder gently -one of the few places not damaged by what ever it was that had happened to him. Leaving him to his rest, she glances at his chart one last time, wondering what it was that he had endured to cause the look she saw in his eyes.

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Thank you again for reading...

~km


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all, welcome back! I hope you read and enjoy this latest installment. I plan on at least another chapter...perhaps more depending on what motivates me after the final episode of the season tomorrow.

Nothing has changed...they are still not mine...

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An angel's grace was energy -pure and powerful, glorious light and eternal darkness. It was all that they were, and all they would be. It connected them to their father's creations -their grace able to provide light in the darkest of times, and strength when weakness threatened to overtake a soul.

This grace, this connection to all that was, had its complications. Angels could not just walk among the humans in their true form; they needed a vessel, a human willing and able to house them during their visit. Key to this arrangement was the ability to contain an angel's grace in the human host. True, the human had to allow the invasion, but without the correct host, the energy would consume the physical, wasting away the humans soul in the process.

The requirements of an angel being on earth were vast, and therefore not often permitted. On occasion when the presence of God's army was needed, only a select few were allowed to take a vessel. They had to be aware of the responsibility to contain their grace, not allowing unrestrained release of this energy; to do so could potentially cause disaster.

Castiel was well schooled in these concepts, having intimate knowledge of what could happen when a vessel could no longer contain its angelic guest. Some were simple -like blowing out an electrical outlet or causing interference in the humans entertainment devices, such as televisions and radios. Angels would often allow their grace to provide for subtle conveniences, such as keeping up the appearance of cleanliness and repressing the physical needs of the host...hunger, thirst, the need for rest...irritating reactions to a bug bite...

Much more powerful examples could be seen in the destruction of a transfer station responsible for most of the eastern coast of the continental United States when an arch angel felt more annoyance than control. Of course, there was also the display of blinding, horrific light that signaled the end of an angel...something Castiel was unfortunately very familiar with, both from his own death, and the death of his brothers at his own hand.

Since his rebellion and resurrection, his grace has been diminished. The limits resulting from his separation from heaven were difficult to adjust to, but he was adaptable. His weaknesses were compensated for; in war one could not wallow in self pity. But as time passed, as he expended more and more of his energy just trying to maintain the little he had left...the longer it took him to recover.

What he had lost -what he still had to loose- these thoughts were what he pondered as he sat staring at the now useless pieces of plastic and electronics in his hand as the current nurse on duty came in to check on her patient.

"I think your battery is dead." She commented absently, glancing at the machine recording his vessel's vital statistics.

"I believe you may be correct..." He replied gravely, realizing that her statement may be applied to both his cell phone and himself.

The nurse looked at him sympathetically -his tone of voice expressing what his words did not. The look in his eyes, the set of his shoulders -this man had lost more than his ability to access his voice mail.

"So, do you have a plug for it?" She asked, hoping the answer was yes.

He looked up at her, a slight tilt to his head, confusion clearly written on his features. "Do you think such a thing would help?" He asks, then seeming to realize the flaw in the conversation, adds "It does not matter anyway...I do not have a plug. I never needed one before." He did not add that up until very recently his archaic form of communication was recharged by his mere presence, not human intervention.

Not knowing how to respond to his question, or his confusion, other than to mention it to his doctor during rounds, she picked up the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. "How about this then? You can use the room phone...it will be billed to you when you're discharged."

He nodded slowly, mainly because he was doing everything slowly, grateful for her assistance. He was unsure what she meant about bills and being discharged, but did not sense any ill will in the words. As she left the room, he picked up the receiver, and dialed the phone number his fingers were familiar with, realizing on the third ring that it was Dean's number, not Sam's he had dialed. He was going to hangup and dial the younger Winchester's number when the unexpected happened; Dean answered. Castiel listened for the hint of angel tenor in the familiar voice...but there was none.

"Dean..." It was a question, a statement, a relieved sigh, all at once.

Dean seemed as surprised as the angel by this turn in events. Apparently his human companions had believed him dead -a fair assumption, given the circumstances. It troubled the angel more than he was comfortable with to explain his current limitations, and his frustration at having to give voice to his failings was evident in his tone. But he required assistance, and admitting his weakness was necessary to achieve this goal. Dean allowed the slightest bit of sympathy to enter his voice as he comprehended the angels current situation before laying out the plans to deal with it.

Castiel was grateful for the hunter's ability to deal with the most trying of times with such efficiency. The angel hoped that his words of apology also conveyed this gratitude -hearing Dean's voice, realizing Dean did in fact resist saying yes to Michael- meant that the angels actions were not in vain. For this, he was willing to endure, willing to fight until his grace was no more. If the brothers could keep their faith in each other, then Castiel would stand by their side while they created their destiny.

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Thank you for reading...reviews are wonderful and appreciated...thanks for stopping by.

~km


	4. Chapter 4

So this chapter was written and ready to go...then my brain got silly and I wanted to rewrite it. So here it is, and I hope you enjoy.

The boys are not mine, the show is not mine, and Google is most certainty not mine...

* * *

Castiel dresses slowly, the familiar feel of cotton somehow easing his discomfort. His shirt had been a lost cause, but a kind nurse found another one to replace it in the charity drop box. The blue striped tie was still in the pocket of his trench coat, but soon found its home around his neck once more. The knot was loose, not nearly correct, but the angel was not concerned enough with it to care.

Bobby Singer called the hospital room to verify that he did, in fact, wire money to the angel's pre-pay credit card. Sam and Dean had decided that it was easier and more reliable to have his cell phone minutes paid for by a credit card than the angel obeying the voice's demands for more time. Castiel had discovered that it was also capable of purchasing hamburgers in large quantities when the need arose.

Armed with after care instructions, warnings of the dangers of leaving against medical advise and enough pain medication for a week, Castiel leaves the hospital. His original plan had been to meet the Winchesters at Singer's junk yard, but the brothers would not be there when he arrived. They had a date with the Horseman Pestilence and a plan they could not possibly execute.

Common sense would have the angel on an airplane, waiting for his recovery in the safety of the older hunter's house. Castiel knew what Pestilence was capable of, and that the two humans has no chance of approaching him without feeling the effects of his power. Castiel also knew _he_ had little chance of fairing any better himself in his current condition. Although his interactions while in this vessel had taught him many humanistic behaviors, self preservation had not yet been one of them. Perhaps that was because the examples he most closely observed were not known for their ability to place their own welfare very high on any priority list.

Decision made, he takes a taxi to the airport twenty minutes away, relying on Jimmy's memories to guide him in this new world of air travel. There is a direct flight to Iowa, and according to something called 'Google' he would be able to catch a bus to his new destination upon landing.

The plane boards soon after he purchases his ticket, and a flight attendant with concern in her eyes guides him to his seat, telling him to ask her if he needs anything. The plane is louder than he expects and takes off incredibly slowly. By the time the plane lands, Castiel has decided he will never travel this way again...the cramped space, the turbulence, the lack of control, is not something he cares to experience again. The angel also notes to advise Dean that this type of air travel is nothing like what he considers flying.

Thankfully the bus station is only two blocks from the airport, and he manages the trip without much incident. The setting sun is still bright and he feels it's warmth penetrate the cold ache that has settled into his very being. The ticket he procured from the woman at the window indicates his departure time is in twenty minutes, giving him a moment to sit and rest. It bothers him only slightly that he actually needs to rest at all.

Soon a voice announces that his bus will depart, and he follows several others onto the long, silver vehicle. As an angel, Castiel would not normally need such tools for travel, but this was not the first time he was ever on a bus. He chooses a seat by a window, resting his forehead against the cool glass. He remembers a time he sat with a lonely young woman, her prayers pleading for assistance, as she fled an abusive father. Her thoughts were hopeless and dark, toying with more permanent escape options. He had sat next to her, a guest in the body of a 78 year old grandmother, his grace soothing the young girl's soul as she confided in the woman next to her.

The bus pulls away from the terminal, the movement jarring his injured vessel and immediately creating a strange rolling sensation in his stomach. Jimmy's mind provides a name for this sensation (nausea) and Castiel does not like it. Eyes closed, breathing slowly, he tries to control this newest rebellion of his vessel. Castiel decides that the bus is also not a preferred method of transportation. For obvious reasons, travel by his own wings and wind would have been ideal, followed closely (strangely enough) by passage in Dean's beloved Impala. This method was loud and chaotic, aggravating an already injured body, but it accomplished his goal of reuniting him with the brothers, and his options were limited to those of his vessel.

Adjusting to the rhythm of the bus's movement, he is lulled into a restless sleep. Walking in the dreams of humans is not the same as experiencing them himself. His dreams are of violence and death, his thoughts intertwined with Jimmy's, causing him to wake with a gasp of shock. With his grace diminished, Jimmy is closer to the surface now more than before. Although not completely aware of their situation, Jimmy's presence is palpable, his fear and anxiety strong enough to cause their shared hands to shake and breathing to increase until he realizes that what he just witnessed were only nightmares...for now at least.

The retirement home that Pestilence chose as his playground was unassuming- unless you were privy to the foul darkness that was the horseman of illness and disease. Castiel could sense the wrongness of the place before he could actually see it. Stepping off the bus, he sees the familiar black car at the back of the parking lot, partially obscured behind a large oak. His friends were already here he realizes, and fear for their safety has him running towards the building, praying out of habit that he was not too late to help.

Millennial of training overrides his anxiety as he gets to the door, preventing him from bursting through without thought or plan. Reaching out with his faltering grace, he can sense only one demon, and something much more powerful than that, but no other beings, human or otherwise. Sam and Dean were hidden from him of course, but for reasons unknown, he feels instinctively that they are still alive.

Castiel opens the main door slowly, taking in the lobby and nurse's station. There are several bodies, none of them familiar, and although he feels sorrow for the loss of life, he is also grateful that they are not of the brothers. As he walks down the hallway towards the presence he knows to be Pestilence, he can feel the horseman's effects tugging at his vessel. His grace would not protect him for long, but he hoped it would be enough.

He hears a voice coming from a room on the right, and feels a need to take a steadying breath. All he has to do is provide distraction, hopefully presenting an opportunity for the Winchesters to either fight or escape. With that slight resemblance to a plan in place, Castiel kicks open the door.

Sam and Dean are writhing on the floor, clearly in the clutches of Pestilence's grasp. All the occupants of the room seem surprised to see the angel in the doorway, Dean saying his name as a question. As soon as he enters the room, the unsettling sensation of drowning seems to increase, his grace no longer able to protect him from the onslaught.

Pestilence had not sensed the arrival of the man now standing in the doorway, which perplexes him. How did this creature arrive without his knowledge, without the horsemen being immediately aware of his presence? This should not have been possible...

"How did you get here?" Pestilence asks the intruder, truly wanting to know the answer.

"I took a bus." was the simple answer, creating a surge of rage in the horsemen. Not only was this creature in front of him fighting the effects of his power, he had the audacity to mock him.

The effects of Pestilence's power increases dramatically in relation to his anger, finally bringing the intrusion to his knees. Now the horsemen could examine it more closely, realizing suddenly that this thing in front of him was a vessel - an occupied vessel no less- but something was wrong with the angel inside it. The angel was there, but its grace, its annoying brilliance, was diminished. The power that usually radiated from a warrior of heaven's army was blocked in this creature. He had never witnessed such a thing before, but it settled his concerns. It was an abnormality, no more, and he had nothing to fear in this creature.

"Well look at that...an occupied vessel, but powerless..." Pestilence observes quietly, amusement in his voice. "That's fascinating...there's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

In defiance of the horseman's mocking, Castiel's grace surges in protection, giving him the opportunity he needs. He is on his feet, the demon killing knife retrieved from the floor in one hand, Pestilence's ring hand in the other.

"Maybe just a speck..." Castiel replies darkly, removing the ring and finger in one swift motion.

The demon attendant roars in anger, flying across the room to attack, too late to prevent the assault on her charge, but willing to punish the one who committed the violation. Castiel is tackled to the ground, instinct having him stab upward into the demon on top of him. The demon dies in sparks and light flares, the now unoccupied body a dead weight on top of him.

Castiel gets to his feet quickly, still wary of the now unarmed horseman across the room. The horseman holds the injured hand close to his chest, the loss of his power obvious. "Doesn't matter anyway...your too late"

With those words, he disappears, the three remaining exchanging concerned glances.

"Well that's not ominous at all..." Dean mumbles, pocketing the newly acquired ring "What the hell do you think he meant?"

Sam shakes his head slowly, fingers pushing hair out of his eyes."I don't know...can't be good..." he offers in reply, glancing over at Castiel, who appears to be swaying slightly. "Hey Cas, nice timing...you okay?"

The angel hears the Winchesters voices as if from a great distance. He thinks that perhaps Sam has just asked him a question, but he seems unable to respond. He feels himself sway, then strong hands on both his arms prevent him from falling to his knees.

"Cas? Is it Pestilence?" Dean asks, shaking the arm he holds slightly to get the angel's focus.

Castiel stares at him blankly for a moment, trying to form the thoughts, much less the words, for a response. "No...no...its the...dizzy?"

The brothers glance at each other, trying to interpret the answer, not sure if it was a positive or negative to Dean's question.

"Well okay then..." Dean mumbles, trying unsuccessfully to keep his tone neutral, "Lets get you horizontal then before you fall down..."

"That is unnecessary..." Castiel states without conviction, "I am perfectly capable of..."

Of what the Winchesters are unsure of, as the angel's knees buckle and he sags, unconscious, in their grasp.

* * *

Thank you again for reading. Reviews would be awesome and much appreciated.

~km


	5. Chapter 5

After a silly long wait, here is the latest chapter... Thank you so much for reading, and hopefully reviewing. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

They had been driving for about three hours when Dean's stomach and bladder both signaled their request for attention. A billboard a mile back promised good food, and great pie...and if that wasn't a sign that he should stop, he didn't know what was.

Sam roused from a restless sleep at the sound of the Impala pulling off the interstate, glancing out the dark window for a landmark to identify their location. Empty fields and lights in the distance did not do much in the way of telling him where they were, other than middle of no where, USA. He stretched as much as he could in the confines of the front seat, then glanced back at the third passenger laying across the back bench. The angel was still asleep -or more likely, unconscious- in the same position they had placed him in, a blanket under his head in makeshift pillow. Sam thought absently that perhaps they should invest in a real pillow or two considering how much time they actually spent sleeping or recovering while in the Impala...maybe one of those travel pillows people use on planes...

"So, he still breathing?" Dean asked, derailing his brothers random thought train. Dean was trying to sound casual in his question, but Sam could hear the concern there.

"Yeah, he seems to be..resting, I guess..." Sam responded, glancing back to Castiel. "Maybe we can try and wake him when we stop..."

"Up ahead," Dean motioned to a restaurant ahead. "Sign claims to have great pie..."

Sam smiled at the happiness in Dean's voice. Middle of the Apocalypse, unconscious angel in the backseat, agents of both heaven and hell trying to kill them or possess them, or whatever...but at least there was still hope for 'great pie'. He was glad his brother could still find joy in something so simple.

Dean was pulling the Impala into the parking lot moments later, and his optimism remained. Many of the places they stopped at on the road were the epitome of false advertising. This place looked quite promising though. Open 24 hours, the neon sign proclaimed, and it appeared that the current crowd was mostly teenagers hanging out in one of the three places they could go in the small town.

Dean got out first, stretching aching muscles happy to be not sitting for a moment. Castiel was laying with his head resting against the door on the passengers side of the car, and Sam was already slowly opening the door when Dean joined him.

The brothers shared a glance, waiting to see if the angel would waken, but there was no movement to indicate awareness. Sam leaned into the backseat, hesitating a moment as he tried to figure out the best way to wake Castiel. He decided on the gentle shoulder shake, then stood up quickly, almost wary of a reaction.

Dean watched this exchange, amused by his brother's behavior. Even though the angel and his brother had formed a friendship, it seemed like Sam still remembered a time when Castiel would have smite him rather that shake his hand.

"Right..." Dean mumbled, moving into Sam's vacated space. "Hey Cas, wakey-wakey-"

Castiel responded to Dean's sing-song command with a quiet moan, eyes fluttering open. Suddenly the angel was bolting upright, getting tangled in his trench coat as he attempted to flee the backseat.

"Cas! Cas! Calm down, it's us-" Dean said, hands stretched out in front of him in a hopefully non-threatening manner.

Castiel could not remember where he was or how he got to be there, and the pain he felt at the sudden movement just increased his panic. He wanted to escape, to fly away from this place until he could get his bearings, but this ability was lost to him. In his panic he did not understand the words that were spoken, but the voice penetrated his fear. He took a moment to register where he was, getting his breathing under control. Memories of the past few days flooded his mind, overwhelming his ability to think for a moment. Banishment sigils, fishing boats, Pestilence...being human. He felt a sudden need to be sick.

Dean seemed to process this almost as fast as Castiel, and desire to protect his upholstery had him hauling the angel out of the backseat before the request could be spoken. Castiel stumbled a step or two away from the car, then fell to his knees, his stomach heaving. The spasms caused his already abused body to shudder, and he would have fallen face first into the ground if not for the support of the two brothers on either side of him. When the spasms subsided, the brothers helped him up and back to the Impala, letting him sit on the edge of the back seat. He felt hot and cold at the same time, sweat beading on his forehead .

"Feeling any better?" Sam inquired quietly, handing the angel a bottle of water.

"I am not sure." Castiel answered, taking a small sip from the bottle. The water was cool, and seemed to settle well. "That was most...unpleasant."

Dean patted him on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. "Yeah, dry-heaves are no fun at all. Do you think you could make it inside?"

Castiel looked past the brothers and took in their location. Although it seemed counter-intuitive, at seeing the diner, his stomach grumbled, this time in hunger. Castiel looked at it, confusion evident in his expression.

Dean laughed quietly. "When was the last time you ate, Cas?"

"At the hospital...yesterday." Castiel answered slowly, another wave of dizziness causing him to close his eyes.

"Yeah, well that may be a problem. Trust me when I tell you this, but a little bit of something in your stomach will actually help."

Castiel seemed to not believe him, but since he was new to this whole 'eating' requirement, he felt that he may have to have faith in the guidance of others. The brothers helped him to his feet, giving him a moment to steady himself before walking across the parking lot. He felt unsteady, but the brothers each had a hand casually supporting him. He let them guide him to his next experience, knowing that they would not lead him astray...at least as far as dinner was concerned.

* * *

So I think it's done. I could write more of the Cas as an almost human, but I'm not sure I will. Thank you for reading and please do leave a review to let me know what you think.

~km


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